


Looking Back, Moving Forward

by Telaryn



Series: The Hero and The Bad Boy [11]
Category: Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional Baggage, Established Relationship, Forbidden Love, Grief/Mourning, Kissing, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint goes to visit Coulson's grave in order to think about the path his life has taken and an accusation made by Director Fury in the heat of the moment that he just can't quite get past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking Back, Moving Forward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kastron (decidueye)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/gifts).



> Born out of a moment in "Decision Made, No Regrets" and waaaaaaaaay too much Clint/Coulson fic. Plus my never-ending need to make Ishilde smile.
> 
> Now I kinda want to write that moment between Clint and Coulson in Puente Antiguo...

_Puente Antiguo..._ Clint hadn’t argued with the decision for him to stand down, to not take the shot – but the lack of follow through had kept him keyed up, adrenaline flooding his system as he paced the length of Coulson’s office. “He’s secure,” had been his handler’s greeting when he finally returned from overseeing the battle outside.

Jaw tight, hands clenched into fists at his side, Clint nodded. “What now?”

Thinking back, he was sure on some level he’d registered what Coulson had told him at the time. He could recall later when men were discussing the fight in the mess not being surprised when they talked about there being no fatalities. In that moment, however, all he knew was that Coulson stepped across the invisible line that defined his personal space. He was too close, too real, and Clint had been crushing on his handler for far too long.

“I was sure you were going to put me on my ass when I kissed you.” Clint smiled bitterly at the memory, idly twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. “Standing there all cool and professional, not a clue how bad-ass you were…” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard against a sudden lump in his throat.

Coulson hadn’t rejected him then; hadn’t pushed him away or reprimanded for his conduct, even though all the rules clearly mandated that he should. They hadn’t gone nearly as far as Clint wanted, but the ten minutes or so of kissing and groping that took place before they were interrupted had left him with an unhealthy level of hope that they might be able to figure out how to have something more.

“When this is over, we’re both going to take some time off.” Phil had Clint’s face cradled between his palms, and was looking the archer directly in the eyes. Clint had felt raw, laid bare, like everything he was and everything he wanted was Coulson’s for the taking. “We’re going to talk about everything, I promise – figure out if there’s a way to go forward.”

In the end, the promise was all Clint was left with. Coulson was dead, and he’d gone down thinking Clint was compromised – a traitor – lost to the good guys forever. “I made it back,” he said, looking up at the headstone, and the colorful splash of flowers he’d set at the base. Heedless of the cold, Clint was sitting cross-legged on the ground – his black leather duster fanned out on the grass behind him. “Natasha never gave up on me. She brought me back, but it was too late for us to tell you.”

He ducked his head, trying to sort through the tangle of his emotions. “So much has changed,” he said finally, raising his head again and blinking away the threat of tears. “Fury’s sure you wouldn’t approve of what I’ve done – the choices I’ve made – but Phil I have to believe you’d be happy for me…I…” He shook his head, his mounting frustration making him angry. So much that he was never going to be able to resolve, never going to be able to make right.

A hand gripped his shoulder, making him flinch. “Cap said you’d probably be here.” Maintaining physical contact Quinn leaned forward and set his own, smaller bunch of flowers on top of the bundle Clint had brought. His pale eyes roamed across the information etched into the plain, unfeeling stone. “Hell of a year for you, huh?”

Clint’s answering laugh was soft and shaky. “Something like that, yeah.”

Quinn went to his knees in the grass. Reaching out, he traced Clint’s jawline, urging his head up, until their eyes met. “I’ll go if you still need privacy.” His hand fell away, into his lap, as he waited for an answer.

The problem was, Clint didn’t entirely know what he wanted. He was glad Quinn had showed up, but he still wasn’t used to having someone in his life who wasn’t Nat or Coulson that he could talk about anything with – who he was _expected_ to be able to share things with. “Something Fury said,” he finally said with a sigh, turning his focus back to the headstone. “He asked me if I thought Coulson would approve of what I was doing – leaving S.H.I.E.L.D., choosing you… I guess it got further under my skin than I thought.”

He was grateful Quinn didn’t immediately try to make him feel better by pretending that Fury was _entirely_ full of shit. “His opinion really mattered to you?”

That startled a laugh out of Clint again. “Oh yeah,” he said, wiping a fresh threat of tears from his eyes with the back of one gloved hand. “You could say that.” He forced himself to meet Quinn’s eyes again, not to cringe away from the concern he saw reflected there. “Phil Coulson was the man who brought me into S.H.I.E.L.D. He was my handler for nearly a decade.” His smile softened, turned wistful. “And I think I loved him for nearly that whole time.”

The admission seemed to free something deep inside him. Reaching out he took Quinn’s hand and tugged until his lover had moved to sit on the grass next to him. “Tasha said he died during the whole Loki mess,” Quinn said, settling in beside him with a small exhalation of breath.

Clint pulled the other man’s hand into his lap, drawing strength from his presence. Quinn had a way of going absolutely still inside, his focus entirely on the moment and what was going on right in front of him. It steadied Clint, who was only ever really able to find that sort of inner peace when he was waiting to put an arrow or a bullet in someone. “He died thinking I was compromised – that I’d been lost.” Clint knew he needed to put it aside, let it go, but fresh on the heels of his break with Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. it was easier to focus on things he couldn’t go back and fix than risk second guessing the one decision he’d made that had been entirely under his control.

Quinn was silent for a long moment, looking at Coulson’s headstone. “I don’t know much about him,” he admitted finally, turning his head until their eyes met, “but what little I have picked up tells me that he probably died trusting that you’d find your way back.” He smiled slightly. “Anyone that high up in the organization who didn’t bust you just for bringing Tasha in was somebody who trusted you.” He leaned over and kissed the archer gently on the temple. “Did he know how you felt about him?”

“Pretty sure he did,” Clint admitted, Coulson’s words sounding in his head again: _” We’re going to talk about everything, I promise – figure out if there’s a way to go forward.”_ “Phil was a company man, though, and there was a lot on the books against us trying to pursue any kind of a relationship.” He sighed. “He promised we’d make time to talk about it, to look into it…”

“But he died before you could,” Quinn finished for him. Clint nodded. A gust of wind washed over them, and instinctively the two men drew closer together. “You know, I get why you have so much trouble with the idea,” Quinn said, “but you are allowed to be happy Clint.”

Clint laughed bitterly. “You know most of the world would say I need to be a whole lot more serious.”

Quinn cupped Clint’s cheek in his palm, turning his face so that their eyes met again. “Don’t do that,” he said. “The snark is fun, and most of the time I love watching you troll the hell out of everybody, but right now I need to know that you’re hearing me when I say this. _You are allowed to be happy._ ”

Tears were falling freely now, and Clint knew it was taking far more control than it should to keep from jerking away from Quinn’s hand, looking away from the truth in his eyes. “I know you want that to be the case,” he said finally.

Before he could continue his argument, Quinn kissed him. It was soft and warm, gradually filling him up and pushing all his pent up tension aside. Whimpering softly, Clint reached up and hooked his gloved fingers around the back of Quinn’s neck; holding onto him as tightly as he could.

“Hush,” Quinn said softly as their lips parted. He pressed his forehead briefly against Clint’s before pulling free and sitting up. “No more living in the past, okay? Please? Because I’m pretty sure if it comes down to it I’ve got a hell of a lot more to regret than you do.”

Smiling, Clint caressed Quinn’s cheek. “I think he would have liked you,” he said after a long moment, brushing a few strands of hair behind his lover’s ear.

Quinn’s expression softened. “Yeah, but would he have liked me _for_ you?”

Clint tried to imagine Coulson meeting the charming ex-mercenary, and the thought made him chuckle. “I think he would have thought we were pretty perfect for each other.”

“Yeah,” Quinn said, eyeing him doubtfully. “That’s not necessarily a ringing endorsement.”

Beginning to feel hints of the peace Quinn had been urging him toward, Clint looked up at Coulson’s headstone again. “Trust me – if you’d known Phil Coulson you’d understand that it really kind of is.”


End file.
